In the early morning of the following day we awoke to uproar and the neighing of horses. On looking up we saw torches spread out above the earth like stars: an army of horsemen and foot soldiers had without warning thrown a cordon around Ghuroub. Everyone hurried off to where the old man was and sat around him in calm silence. Then they began to sing until the sun came up, at which a commander followed by guards made his appearance in front of us. From the first glance I knew that they were from the army of Aman, and I wondered anxiously whether they had conquered Halba.
“Owing to the war which is going on between us and Halba,” said the commander, “and because we have heard that Halba is thinking of occupying Ghuroub in order to encircle Aman, considerations of safety demand that we occupy your land.” Silence reigned and no one from our side commented with so much as a word. The commander went on, “If you want to remain, you must plant the land and join those people who are working. If not, we shall make ready a caravan that will take you to the land of Gebel.”
Once again silence reigned. It was broken by the old man addressing his words to us. “Choose for yourselves what you want.”
Several voices called out, “The land of Gebel…the land of Gebel…”
“You will encounter hardship because of your lack of training,” warned the old man.
Insistently they called out, “The land of Gebel…the land of Gebel…”
“Whoever is found here after the caravan moves off,” said the commander firmly, “will be regarded as a prisoner of war.”
7
The Beginning
At dawn the caravan left the land of Ghuroub. For the first time it was made up wholly of travelers and emigrants: not a single merchant was to be found in it. We were enfolded in anxiety, sadness, and apprehension because of what had occurred in the land of Ghuroub, where we had been forcibly cut off from our training. I wished that on the way opportunities might be afforded us for resuming meditation and exertion in order to lessen the hardship that awaited us.
The rising of the sun revealed a flat desert throughout which were scattered many wells. For a month we continued until our way was barred by the Green Mountain, stretching in both directions as far as the eye could see. We had to cross the mountain, ascending it, then going down the other side. In front of us lay a wide pathway that rose gently upwards, so the caravan headed towards it. At infrequent intervals there were bouts of light rain which kept us company in our loneliness. We would travel by day and encamp at night. Then, after three weeks, we reached the highest part of the mountain. It was a broad, flat area rich with vegetation. “There is the land of Gebel for you,” said the old man, standing at the edge and pointing.
He was indicating another mountain separated from the Green Mountain by a desert. On the top of it stood the city, tall and extensive, with vast domes and buildings bespeaking sublime majesty. I looked in its direction with stunned fascination. It was no longer a dream but a reality, a reality that was close at hand, for there was nothing between us and it except for us to descend the mountainside, cross the short space of desert, and ascend the other mountain. We would then find ourselves in front of the city entrance, with its director of customs saying to us, “Welcome to the land of Gebel, the land of perfection.”
Our patience had diminished and we hastened to be on our way. It took the caravan two weeks to descend the side of the mountain and reach the desert. I was taken aback when I saw the desert stretching away as though endlessly in front of us. We could hardly see the other mountain, so immersed was it in the distance. Astonished at how our eyes had deceived us, I was sure that many days and weeks would pass before we reached the other mountain, on the top of which was to be found the land of Gebel. And we did in fact journey for many weeks, the distance increased by the hills and elevations that barred our way, forcing us to turn sometimes to the right, sometimes to the left, until it seemed to me that a whole lifetime had gone by before we reached the base of the other mountain. We stood below it looking upwards and found that it was as high as the clouds themselves, defying our longings. Then the master of the caravan said, “Here is where the caravan ends, gentlemen.”
I could not believe my ears.
“But take us up,” I said, “to the land of Gebel.”
“The mountain pass is narrow, as you can see,” replied the man, “and gives no room for a camel.”
We hurried off to our spiritual master and he said gently, “The man is speaking the truth.”
“And how shall we continue our journey?”
“On foot, as those before us have done,” he said casually.
“For those who find the going too difficult, let them return with the caravan,” said the master of the caravan.
But nobody’s determination weakened and we all decided to venture forward. I thought about myself and those I had left behind, and about the circumstances I would meet that might prevent my returning. With all this in mind, it occurred to me to write out a journal of my travels and to give it to the master of the caravan to hand over to my mother or to the custodian of the House of Wisdom, for there are aspects that deserve to be known. There are even references to the land of Gebel itself which will disperse some of the darkness that has settled over it and will stir the imagination to picture things about it that are not yet known. After this it would be no bad idea to set aside a special journal for the land of Gebel, should I be destined to visit it and return to my homeland.
The man agreed to undertake the task, so I made him a present of a hundred dinars and we recited together the opening chapter of the Quran to seal the agreement. After that, freeing myself of my misgivings, I made ready for the final adventure with unabated determination.
—
With these words ends the manuscript of the voyage of Qindil Muhammad al-Innabi, known as Ibn Fattouma.
No history book makes any mention further of this traveler.
Did he complete his journey or did he perish on the way?
Did he enter the land of Gebel? How did he fare there?
Did he stay there till the end of his life, or did he return to his homeland as he intended?
Will one day a further manuscript be found describing his last journey?
Knowledge of all this lies with the Knower of what is unseen and of what is seen.
Naguib Mahfouz
The Journey of Ibn Fattouma
Naguib Mahfouz was one of the most prominent writers of Arabic fiction in the twentieth century. Born in Cairo in 1911, he began writing when he was seventeen. Over his long career, he wrote nearly forty novel-length works and hundreds of short stories, ranging from re-imaginings of ancient myths to subtle commentaries on contemporary Egyptian politics and culture. His most famous work is The Cairo Trilogy (consisting of Palace Walk, Palace of Desire, and Sugar Street), which focuses on a Cairo family through three generations, from 1917 until 1952. In 1988, Mahfouz became the first writer in Arabic to be awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature. He died in August 2006.
About the Translator
Born in Vancouver, Denys Johnson-Davies began studying Arabic at the School of Oriental Studies, London University, and later took a degree at Cambridge. He has been described by Edward Said as “the leading Arabic-English translator of our time,” and has published nearly twenty volumes of short studies, novels, and poetry translated from modern Arabic literature. He lives much of the time in Cairo.
BOOKS BY NAGUIB MAHFOUZ
The Beggar, The Thief and the Dogs, Autumn Quail (omnibus edition)
Respected Sir, Wedding Song, The Search (omnibus edition)
The Beginning and the End
The Time and the Place and Other Stories
Midaq Alley
The Journey of Ibn Fattouma
Miramar
Adrift on the Nile
The Harafish
Arabian Nights and Days
Children of the Alley
Echoes of an Autobiography
The Day the Leader Was Killed
Voices from the Other World
Khufu’s Wisdom
Rhadopis of Nubia
Thebes at War
Seventh Heaven
The Thief and the Dogs
Karnak Café
Morning and Evening Talk
The Dreams
Cairo Modern
Khan al-Khalili
The Mirage
THE CAIRO TRILOGY
Palace Walk
Palace of Desire
Sugar Street
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Novels by Naguib Mahfouz Page 11